First, there is a moment of meeting with the world, lived with intensity, so that I am impregnated with it. Then forgetfulness blurs the sharp edges of the reality. I need to invent a language made of crumpled paper, ink, relief and traces, to give a form to these moments, that have faded and yet still leave their mark.

This work of re-membering and condensing seeks to restore the energy of these original moments. The aim is not to offer a specific landscape, or a particular object to be recognized, but rather, as oriental painters do so well, to collect inside oneself and then release, in a movement of transformation, that primal energy.

It is through this similarity of approach that I see myself as coming closer to oriental art, rather than through any possible formal similarity.

This is also what makes me feel closer to poets.
Jean-Michel Maulpoix likes to say that āthe poem is a celebrationā.